Getting It
by A Little Rusty
Summary: A future, maybe with her if she'd let it. But an answer like that could either gain him an elbow to the ribs, which were wide open as targets, or a... kiss. Or both. And it's Helga G. Pataki he was here with; not really someone whose action you could easily predict. HA.


**HELLO! **

**I had this idea for a mutli-chapter HA story but then I realized... I totally didn't have the commitment (and patience) for that. I might type it up a bit later once I've condensed it in my head... or hey, you never know it might actually come out as a multi-chapter. It's up in the air right now. Exciting. Lols.**

**But in the mean time, I leave you with this... Enjoy.**

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They're on his rooftop and staring up at the dark night when she asked her question to the stars

"What do you want?"

His answer was automatic.

"Sleep… Peace and quiet if the world's feeling generous-

"Ow - Helga! I was _trying_ to sleep."

"Be serious, Arnoldo!"

"I was, and that hurt by the way."

"Baby."

He rolled his eyes before he adjusted his bent arm behind his head, a makeshift cushion really. It's a bit chilly out tonight and he sneaked a glance to the girl beside him to make sure she was bundled warm enough. Happy, he closed his eyes again.

He liked nights like these. Spring air right before it turned summer was the best kind for chilling on rooftops and talking.

"What do you want, really?"

Or not talking. That would've been nice too. He cracked an eye open.

"Like in a partner?" he made a face, "because if that is what you're asking, this might get a bit awkward."

_Because you're a girl and I may be dense but I know enough you'll hit me __**whatever**__ my answer._

"No, not like that," she laughed and turned her head to face him, hands still interlocked on her tummy and ankles over the other. "In life, in college or _even_ after whatever, run with it. What do you want? What do you _really_ want? More than anything."

He blinks.

"The truth? Or would that be too heavy?"

He sees her shrug her shoulders before she answered,

"It's a loaded question to begin with, football head. I say, roll with it."

He took a deep breath before letting it shudder out

"For the longest time all I ever wanted were my parents…. But then Grandma, she fell down and broke her hip and I don't know… I just kind of panicked. She was going to be okay but I think I realized for the first time ever that maybe… I was taking everything for granted. I had my grandparents and the boarders and the gang. I wasn't missing anything. And maybe I was being a bastard for selling things short. So I sort of flitted around Hillwood, helping everyone with anything. Then Grandma… she's a coot but you've got to love her, there's no other way around it. I collapsed exhausted on the couch next to where she was resting… she patted my cheeks and just said, _you don't have to say anything Arnold, I __**know**_. And it was just _so_ simple. But it made me realized I had _someone_ who knew me well enough… Who just got it. Something I thought only parents could do."

They stayed quiet for a while, his confession hanging almost thick in the night air.

"And now?" she whispered.

He almost forgot he never _really_ did answer her question. There's a ball thick and heavy in his chest when he thinks about what he really wants.

A future, maybe with her if she'd let it. But an answer like that could either gain him an elbow to the ribs, which were wide open as targets, or... a kiss. Or both. And it was Helga G. Pataki he was here with; not really someone whose action you could easily predict.

And he knew she really wasn't asking for a confession. He would end up making it cheap if he'd use her genuine question as a free ride for telling her his feelings.

In short, this wasn't the time for heart heavy love confessions. Simply, wasn't the time. No, sir. Helga trusted him enough to understand that she wasn't fishing for that. Not even close.

They were on a silent trial basis. No strings or if there were then heavy gossamer was hiding them… both on either party's silent _silent_ agreement… Keep it cool and aloof. Which he never really understood how they got there but you know, he's happy as long as Helga's not running away. This girl was afraid of commitments. He's not sure if it's commitments _in general_ or commitments _with him_ specifically but it's something he understood about her and he was damn right willing to let _her_ set the pace.

And if she needed to _fool_ herself into thinking they _weren't_ going to end up together, then by gods let her!

Arnold Shortman liked _liked_ a girl. And whenever that happened, he _**did**_ something about it. All out. The whole nine yards. Refund? What refund?

"Football head?"

"Hold on – I'm still thinking."

She nodded her head.

What did he want?

He wanted a happy ending for Phoebe and Gerald. He wanted to keep them happy together, that's for sure.

He wanted Grandma to stay infinitely energetic and crazy so she could still do her fanatic schemes.

He wanted Mr. Kokoshka to do right by Suzie.

He wanted Mr. Potts to get the girl.

He wanted Mr. Hyunh to have had the life he wanted before he had to give up his daughter.

He wanted Grandpa to stay old and forever in love with Pookie.

… But those intentions were for other people.

What did he want for himself?

For Arnold the boy who was half (yea right, more like _wholly_) in love with this infuriating girl;

For Arnold the kid who would do almost anything for a friend;

For Arnold who had no idea what he wanted at all.

So he starts at the basics.

He wanted **the** Helga.

He wanted a job.

He wanted to keep his friends.

He wanted to be there every time Grandpa told a story.

He wanted to bail Grandma out of jail just so he could hear her say, "Hey, Kimba!" like she didn't commit some sort of felony.

He wanted a life, where everything was chaotic but simple. He wanted adventure; he wanted Sunday picnics. He wanted highs; he wanted lows.

He just wanted life to **happen** to him.

And sure enough it already had.

He saved a neighborhood, with help of course.

He experienced the haunting of the Ghost Bride.

He went downtown as a fruit.

He went thug.

He once synchronized swam with the boys… as cowboys.

He has seen the Rat King and lived to tell the tale.

In short, he's short life has been eventful.

"I just want to keep being Arnold," he chuckled out. It's the most condensed thing he could think of. He wanted a lot. More than what he had thought of just now. He wanted life to go the same way but the other way too. He wanted things to change but keep its same pace. He wasn't sure what he wanted but he knows he'll catch up to it. It's there but somehow Arnold just knew that if he put them into words… he still won't get it right. Just a shade not right...

Because it was Helga G. Pataki he was here with, he didn't have to say more.

He sneaked another glance at the girl beside him. She's on her back, with her hands now tasting the cold cement, and the stars in her eyes. A corner of her lips was flicked upwards. And he could tell, just by this one glance… she got it. Understood the things he hadn't said. The things he means to say but didn't have the words for…

And he realized that being understood (without having to say anything) wasn't _limited_ to just family either.

Because he's Arnold Shortman… he can't help but let something _tiny_ (monumental) slip out.

He could already feel the blush forming as he refocuses on the sky and, as best as he could, inched his pinky to hers…

"And if there's a Helga to keep me company… then I can't say I'd mind an inch."

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**Typing that up seemed longer than it really was...**

**AND if you're feeling generous (humor me) go read my note above. Your numerous reviews might help me write that mutli-chapter much _much_ faster.**

**Yea? No? Oh, okay.**

**Ta.**


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